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Brad turned toward me, his reluctance to leave palpable in his gaze. "I guess it's time," he said, the words heavy with unvoiced sentiments.
"Yeah, it is," I admitted, a small smile attempting to mask the pang of separation already gripping at my heart.
His goodbye was a soft utterance lost in the evening air as he slowly descended the staircase. I watched him go, my heartstrings tugging in sync with the distance widening between us.
Left alone in the loft, I surveyed the boxes scattered around me. The rugged space, with its high ceilings echoing the silence, and its simplicity adding a touch of warmth, was my haven now.
My fingers absently traced the smooth surface of my phone lying next to me, the cold screen a stark reminder of the daunting call I had to make in a day or two. Tyree. Just thinking about it sent a chill through me.
Amongst the boxes, my gaze landed on a familiar sight. My favorite quilt. A rush of emotion swelled in my chest as I walked over, gently pulling it free. It was heavy with memories of Brad's warmth, his touch. As I wrapped it around my shoulders, I could almost feel his strong arms around me again, offering solace in the storm.
I was looking at my flip phone that was charging. It reminded me of simpler times. Facing the unknown was inevitable, and I had to be ready to handle it. I needed to brace my heart for the battles that lay ahead.
The quilt snuggled around my shoulders was more than just a comfort. It was a fabric woven with the story of my rugged roots, a testament to my strength and resilience. As I pulled it closer, the familiar texture whispered a promise—that no matter the trials that lay ahead, I could withstand them.
I was reassured.
ChapterTwelve
Brad
I strolled into my penthouse,suddenly feeling like all its flashiness didn't mean much. It was a swanky place, high up above the city, with these massive windows showing off the sprawling cityscape. When I first moved in, I didn't really fuss about the décor. Left it to some interior decorators, who ended up pulling together a look. That was a mix of sleek, modern vibes and a bit of a manly twist.
The living area was spacious and open, its centerpiece a sprawling black leather sectional that could easily accommodate a small crowd. The space's color palette was muted, adorned with geometric patterns that gave it a modern edge.
The kitchen in my penthouse was something else, decked out with all these shiny appliances and a massive granite island. I wasn't much of a cook; the fridge mostly held beer and leftovers from takeout meals, ready to be warmed up on the stove that didn't see much action.
Nearby, the bedroom was my chill zone, kitted out with a large bed and these crazy soft white sheets, the perfect crash pad after a rough day. The walk-in closet was a sight, filled with all sorts of suits, casual stuff, and polished shoes.
The bathroom was decked out, too, with marble walls, a spacious shower, and this tub that was just begging for company. But what I really liked was the garden up on the roof—a bit of nature in the middle of the city, with a few comfy chairs, a fountain, and a grill. It was just the spot for some alone time and a cold beer.
For all its grandeur, the apartment felt empty, void of any personal touch. Everything was meticulously curated for aesthetic appeal rather than comfort. Yet, memories of Courtney's visits brought fleeting moments of warmth.
I remembered one particular evening when she had come over after a long day at work. She'd kicked off her heels and curled up on the couch, her head resting against my shoulder as we watched a movie.
Another time, Courtney had turned up at my doorstep unannounced, a playful smile on her lips and a bottle of wine in her hands. We ended up on the balcony under a starlit sky, our laughter ringing into the night.
I couldn't help but recall one particular memory—the night we got caught up in a rainstorm. We'd dashed up to the apartment, both soaked to the skin. When Courtney started shivering, I picked her up in my arms and took her to the bathroom, helping her get out of her wet clothes, wrapping her in one of my extra soft towels. I noticed a twinkle in her eyes, a quiet come hither that ended up with us both in the hot shower, our bodies entangled in that timeless dance, and I longed to dance that dance with her again.
My gaze roved around the expansive apartment, taking in the impeccable decor and the plush furnishings. A wave of loneliness consumed me, amplifying the eerie silence.
"This place," I murmured to myself, my voice barely above a whisper, "it's too damn big, too silent." My words were a testament to my loneliness.
A chuckle bubbled up from my throat, void of any real humor. "Funny," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, "how you can feel alone even in a crowd of memories?”
I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Her laughter, her smiles," I sighed, closing my eyes as flashes of Courtney filled my mind. "They're still here, bouncing off the walls, filling the silence."
The fact that she was not here anymore still hit me hard even after all these months, and I felt a strong physical and emotional reaction. The things left in the house were just a small reminder of the warmth she brought with her. I clenched my teeth and tried to cope with the pain in my heart. Unfortunately, even those reminders were starting to fade away.
Despite the echoes of the past, the present held its grip, pulling me back into the stark reality of the situation. The walls that were once a silent audience to our love and laughter now echoed with a distinct disquiet, pulling me into a whirlpool of thoughts about Clint Tyree's unwelcome reappearance in our lives.
It was an invasion of sorts that roused a gamut of emotions within me—love, happiness, fear, and jealousy—that clouded my judgment and held my heart captive. As I sat on the couch, the leather cool against my skin, my mind went into overdrive.
The love I felt for Courtney was overwhelming, engulfing. It was like a roaring fire in my heart, stoked every time her face crossed my mind, her laughter echoed in my ears, and her touch lingered on my skin. We had confessed our love to each other tonight, the three magical words that held immense power.
When I told her I loved her, a soft blush painted her cheeks, and her lips whispering a confession of her own. It was a memory that I would always cherish, the thought of which brought a warm smile to my face even in the midst of the storm that loomed ahead.
But then, the jealousy crept in, curling around my heart like a vice. The thought of Clint Tyree being near Courtney, let alone talking to her, made my blood boil.
